


Life After

by Caro_the_Poet



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:27:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27939692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caro_the_Poet/pseuds/Caro_the_Poet
Summary: I just need you to be able to tell people I was here, I felt, I lived and I loved asmuch as I could, while I could. And that the person that I loved, was you.-The Last Days, Iain S. Thomas
Relationships: Samantha "Sam" Carter/Jack O'Neill
Comments: 17
Kudos: 38





	Life After

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a sweet, sad little piano piece I happened to be listening to last night. If you REALLY want to break your own heart, listen to it while you read. The story lines up with the flow of the song. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7gifuoofgpk&list=RD7gifuoofgpk&index=1  
> I may add more to it later and flesh it out into a larger story, but I'm not sure yet.

A military ball as her first step back into society was a colossally bad idea.

She feels the walls closing in. She should have listened to Daniel for once, and not come here tonight. She should have known she wasn’t ready. Too many people, too many sympathetic smiles and squeezes on her arms, too many voices saying, _I was so sorry to hear about General O’Neill. How are you holding up?_

No one really wants to know. No one wants to hear about the sleepless nights; the colorless days; the moments when the pain is so deep she thinks she might drown in it.

_Oh, you know. I’m managing. I have good days and bad days._

They know she’s lying through her teeth and she knows they know.

She sucks in a gasping breath and makes a run for one of the many side rooms that will, hopefully, be unoccupied while everyone is dancing.

She finds one. Dim, quiet, blessedly empty. She sets her champagne glass down on an end table and takes a slower, deeper breath. Soft piano music, a waltz, drifts in from the ballroom with the carefree dancers. She closes her eyes and sways to it, her arms hugging her body. She needs to find some equilibrium. She needs to get through this night.

_Sam._

If she were to open her eyes, she thinks, he would be standing there in front of her, in his crisp black tuxedo, his unruly silver hair defying gravity in spite of all attempts to tame it. He would smile, that incorrigible light sparkling in his deep brown eyes, and hold out his hand, beckoning her to come dance.

_Sam. I’m here._

If she were to open her eyes, she’d see him pulling her toward him, feel his hands on her waist and her arms would reach up to wrap around his neck. The soft music would swell around them, he would hold her close, and they would sway and spin with it. He might bend down and kiss the curve of her neck, and she might rest her head against his shoulder and breathe in the warm, comforting scent of him. He would whisper in her ear, some ridiculous commentary on the proficiency of the other dancers, maybe, and her laughter would bubble up before she could stop it, like it always did, as he spun her around too fast for the slow, soft waltz. 

_I will always be here for you. No matter what. Believe me._

If she were to open her eyes, he would be so close she almost wouldn’t be able to see him clearly, his forehead resting against hers. He might take one hand from her waist and reach up to brush it over her cheekbone. And she would take his dear face in her hands; memorize the contours of it with her fingers. He would thread his through her hair, gently cupping the back of her head, and kiss her lips softly, tenderly, with the promise of forever, as the music slowed and faded out. 

_I love you._

She opens her eyes.

The room is dark; the music is silent; her face is wet with tears.

And she is alone.


End file.
